


crybaby

by bitches



Series: Pregame things (small pregame oneshots) [4]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Ghost Shuichi Saihara, Haunting, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Game Oma Kokichi, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Pre-Game Saihara Shuichi, Saihara just haunts Ouma that’s it, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, This is just me venting through these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29571165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitches/pseuds/bitches
Summary: Saihara still found amusement in Ouma’s suffering. He would watch Ouma break down and crumble over Saihara’s small, yet impacting words and actions. Ouma didn’t enjoy it as much, but maybe a small part of him enjoyed Saihara’s finger tilting his chin up and turning Ouma’s head toward him. The image of the ghost, once alive, flashed in his mind. Was this really the Saihara he knew? He didn’t even have to question it, knowing his own delusions were clouding his mind. Of course this was the Saihara he knew. He had always been like this. The slight smile that felt menacing, eyebrows layed lax without giving any sort of expression, eyes crinkled up in amusement. Those ghastly eyes never blinked.Ouma pushed Saihara’s hand away, shoulders rising once again in defense.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Series: Pregame things (small pregame oneshots) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993096
Kudos: 23





	crybaby

Ouma was in his bathroom once again with Saihara. This time he was leaning against the wall, hands intertwined in his hair and tugging it. He cursed at himself, muffling his sobs by biting his bottom lip harshly. His eyes squeezed shut, tears falling even harder.

Saihara was sitting across from him, not saying anything. It made Ouma sob more, curling in on himself. The sink was still running, the bright, tiled walls increased his irritation. Pills scattered across the floor. Ouma couldn't bother to fix it at this point. 

"Fuck-!" He choked out, glaring down at the mess he made. This was all his father's fault. All his fault. Ouma’s anger rose, his breathing sped up. God, why couldn't he have a good father? A normal family? A normal life? 

He was so miserable. A pathetic person. He couldn't even take up for himself.

That’s why this all happened. That’s why he was a failure and always would be one. Each scar that lined his wrists and thighs just proved that he was one. Strands of dark purple hair fell into his face, blocking any vision he had of Saiharas ghost. That didn’t make anything better. Ouma knew the scars never solved his problems. They never did.

Ouma hated it here. His eyebrows furrowed, tears slowing as the seconds passed. Were they seconds? Or minutes? He wasn’t counting. Ouma didn’t like counting, or time in general. The ticking of clocks drove him wild. It reminded him of now, the clock on his wall ticking. Tick tick tick.. tick.. it was uneven. The timing was uneven. Ouma removed his arms from his face, letting go of his hair to stare up at Saihara.

Saihara stared right back at him, eyes like an endless pool of swirling gold. No empathy shown in the gleam of his eyes. That’s how it always was, right? Was it..? Ouma wasn’t in a coherent state of mind. He had just downed half a bottle of pills and he felt nauseous. He knew it wasn’t enough to cause genuine harm. Either way, he knew he’d end up puking by the end of this episode. Nobody was there to help Ouma. The ghost of his former friend only sat on the sink and cackled silently at his misery. 

It wasn’t fair. Ouma tried to push himself up on trembling arms. His bones felt fragile. A single touch would let him fall apart. He couldn’t handle this. Ouma really couldn’t handle the suffering Saiharas ghost gave him. He was always being taunted, whether it was by the ghost or his bullies; sometimes it was even by his own father.

It’s not surprising to discover that Ouma had tried to kill himself multiple times. Saihara was the only thing keeping him alive and now he’s gone. Saihara had lied. He was always such a liar. And a hypocrite. _I_ _promise I’ll always be here for you_. Where was he at now? Saihara had left Ouma here to suffer. Maybe the ghost really was Saihara, and not a figment of his sadistic imagination. Saihara never truly cared, he always used Ouma for his own selfish wants. For pleasure, blackmail, or to make Ouma take his place in getting harassed. Ouma hadn’t cared back then.. he had clung to the momentary affection Saihara gave him. Wanting that affection caused all of this. Ouma tried his hardest to get the others attention.

Another snicker came from Saihara. Oumas head spun as his thoughts spiraled into an incoherent mess of _sorry... sorry sorry I did too much it’s allmy fault imsorrysorry_. A mess of a human being. His head turned to look back at Saihara, eyes flickering around the bathroom. Saihara gave a questioning expression, tilting his head.

Ouma flinched, surprised at the reaction. “..Nothing. Why are you laughing at me?”

Saihara just smiled. Ouma didn’t seem as amused, frowning at Saihara in an almost unsightly way. Ouma still had a super pale face, some blotches of red splattering across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He shook his head lightly, turning to face away from the other. 

“I don’t even want to listen to you. You aren’t real..” He mumbled the last part to himself, still not positive if Saihara was aware of that fact. He definitely wasn’t real, though, Ouma had already been over this. A cold shiver ran down his spine, shoulders rising as if trying to make a defense. A cold breath washed over the side of Ouma’s neck, making him yelp loudly. Goosebumps ran over his skin. He trembled, tilting his head slightly over to make room for Saihara to rest his head. “What do you want from me, really? Have you come here to remind me of my past mistakes? To torment me until I die; or maybe a way until I kill myself for you to achieve revenge? Is this really what you want?” His heart pounded after each word that forced itself out at a fast rate. “You’re always stuck in my head, always dwelling and forcing your way out into reality when I’m at my worst. Is this to completely ruin me? Do you even know what you’re doing?”

He shivered again, Saihara’s cold breath now brushing his cheek as Ouma’s mouth kept opening to spill out more jumbled, venting thoughts. They have always been there for him to say, but he hasn’t up until now. Maybe a breaking point for poor, little Ouma? After all, he’s dealt with this type of harassment his whole life. Toxicity, only slightly. Nobody around him was good for him, just like Saihara. However, Ouma wanted to believe that Saihara was better, that he was going to be the good one because that’s how he came off as initially. That was all a lie, and it still was. Everything was surrounded by lies. That was clearly obvious by the amount of times both Ouma and Saihara have lied to each other. Insincere words laced with liquid venom that was too subtle to be noticed by others. 

Saihara still found amusement in Ouma’s suffering. He would watch Ouma break down and crumble over Saihara’s small, yet impacting words and actions. Ouma didn’t enjoy it as much, but maybe a small part of him enjoyed Saihara’s finger tilting his chin up and turning Ouma’s head toward him. The image of the ghost, once alive, flashed in his mind. Was this really the Saihara he knew? He didn’t even have to question it, knowing his own delusions were clouding his mind. Of course this was the Saihara he knew. He had always been like this. The slight smile that felt menacing, eyebrows layed lax without giving any sort of expression, eyes crinkled up in amusement. Those ghastly eyes never blinked. Ouma pushed Saihara’s hand away, shoulders rising once again in defense. 

Ouma knew he made a mistake. 

**Author's Note:**

> Help I don’t even ship these two or like DR anymore


End file.
